


The Pipeline

by ninosbrain



Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-05
Updated: 2014-09-08
Packaged: 2018-02-16 07:07:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2260500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninosbrain/pseuds/ninosbrain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You meet a lot of interesting people, being the sister of the biggest sex industry tycoon in the country</p><p>Cophine</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The Pipeline was in full swing. The hazy, purple lighting and slow, bassy music was disorienting Cosima. She swivelled around on her stool and folded her arms on the bar top, turning away from the leggy women dancing on poles behind her. She blinked hard to stop the purple spots from blocking her vision.

She only spent time on the third floor of The Pipeline. The sleazy, young men with their parents’ credit cards on the first floor were too slimy. It was ideal if you were in the mood for dancing and the staff there were excellent; They had to be. The boss of Pipeline had a brutal reputation. If you made it through your first week, you have done better than most. Staff on the first floor were constantly renewed to keep the floor fresh.

The second floor was a step up. The guest list was invite-only from whoever had the cash and the status to book the floor that evening. This is where A-listers from all over the world would come to visit. You party in The Pipeline before you die, it’s the unspoken rule in the celebrity world. The drugs and the glamour never appealed to Cosima.

The third floor was the exclusive. Security stood at every entrance with their backs to the dancers. Most of the world didn’t know there was a third floor. The staff on the other floors didn’t even know there was a third floor. Mob bosses would gather in the corner with their cigars, foreign royalty would offer the world to the men and women on stage, politicians would clink glasses and sink into their seats to watch dancers hanging from ribbons on the ceiling before taking one home or to a private room down the hall next to the bar.

This is the only floor the boss would step into, and that would only be a few times a year, if at all. There were stories of a dancer fainting when the boss took a seat offered by the president of the country at the time to watch her. A barman actually cried when the boss asked him for a drink. With a reputation so retched, one slip up would mean your job, your seven figure paycheck and no chance of you working in this industry again.

“Hey, doll, long time no see.”

Cosima squinted one eye at the barmaid pouring a drink in front her.

“Bobby? You got promoted to the third floor?”

The blonde slid the drink to her, receiving a nod of thanks.

“You have been gone a long time. I’m a manager now, thanks to you. I choose my hours and I get to boss these young tushes around,” Bobby beamed, slapping her hand to a passing waiter’s behind. Cosima grimaced at the sparkly red speedos he wore.

“New uniforms?” she asked regretfully.

“Hell yeah!” Bobby stepped back and posed so her friend could see her entire corset and stocking ensemble. “Boss wanted something a little more festive for Winter. Hot, right?”

Cosima’s answer was interrupted by a deeper voice.

“Hey, woman. Let me buy you a real drink.”

A slim man in tight, green shorts and a waist coat slid into the space between the barstools. She may have been gone for a few months, but she still knew new staff when she saw them. They are overbearing and ooze cockiness. This boy was clearly from the first floor and he definitely had no business being anywhere but there.

He flashed as many bleached teeth as he could. Cosima stared amazed at the man, then at Bobby. Bobby returned her look.

“He’s not actually that stupid.”

“He can’t be.”

The man stood to his full height and slipped an arm around Cosima’s waist, his thumb rubbing her hip.

“He is.” the ladies said in unison.

Cosima stood from her place, forcing his hand to fall. His face twisted and he ugly pouted.

“Aw, come on, beautiful. You’re here alone, I’m just trying to be friendly.”

Cosima shook her head, her dreads swinging.

“You really don’t want to.”

He opened his mouth again and Cosima waved her hands.

“Shh! Please, stop!” She whispered hurriedly, “You have got to le-”

Cosima felt an arm fall heavily onto her shoulders. The man’s eyes shot to the other woman now standing before him and shrunk into himself, his macho facade melting.

“Well, hey there, friends!” the new-comer’s English accent boomed.

Cosima put a hand to her face.

“Oh god.” The man mewled.

“What’s the matter, buddy? We’re just being friendly, right? You, me, Bobby, my little sister” she shook Cosima’s shoulders for emphasis. Cosima smiled apologetically at the now cowering man.

“Sister?” he squeaked.

The woman smiled toothlessly at him and wrinkled her nose before she bared her bottom teeth.

“Now, get the fuck out of my sight.” she growled.

“Right away, ma’am! Thank you, Miss Manning!” The boy couldn’t scramble away fast enough. Two security men caught him under the armpits and escorted him out. Cosima had a feeling he was getting a new face for Christmas from his two new pals.

She followed him with her eyes until he disappeared through one of the plush, purple curtains hiding the stairs, his body jerking in desperation, his screams drowning out the music. No one in the room payed him any mind. Sarah Manning was above the law. She could take down any business she pleased and shoot any man. Court Supremes frequented the second floor under her invitation, and with the top lawyers in the world on her team, she was invincible.

The intimidating woman swung around to her red faced sister and clapped her on the back.

“Nice to see ya, Cos” she chirped. Cosima replied with a meek “You too, Sarah” as she tried to catch the breath her sister had knocked out of her.

“Bo-” Sarah began. Bobby was already holding out an unopened bottle of bourbon with a sneer. Sarah snatched it out of her hand with a wink and a click of her tongue, and whisked Cosima to her private elevator. Cosima kept her head low while staff jumped out of the sisters’ way.

 

_____

 

Sarah sank into her leather chair and threw her booted feet onto her chunky, marble desk. She watched her sister inspect the city lights below through the glass wall, her heals clicking echoed around the mammoth office. Her dreadlocks had grown longer since Sarah had seen her last, and her skin was noticeably darker. Sarah took a swing from her bottle and smacked her lips together in approval. Cosima took that as a cue and sat on the square sofa against the wall perpendicular to her sister’s desk.

“How’s life been, Cos? You’re looking good. How was Africa?”

“Wonderful.” she said, her face splitting into a smile. “I mean it, you would have loved the food there. And the sun goes down so fast, it’s day time one minute, night the next.” Cosima let her head rest in her palm. “How’s life running the biggest sexcort service in the country?” the younger woman enquired.

Sarah let her head hit the back of her chair and smiled at the ceiling. “It’s pretty damn fine, sis.”

They sat in a comfortable silence for a minute before Cosima spoke up again.

“I missed you.”

“Yeah, missed you, too. How’s mum?” Sarah asked quietly.

Cosima kicked off her shoes and tucked her feet up beside her.

“I only saw her briefly before I flew out here. She’s good. Still smiling, still thinking Vic can change and they can save their marriage. She says hi. She really wants to see you.”

Sarah hummed in acknowledgement.

“And how’s Lady Lorna?” she sang. Cosima rolled her eyes and chuckled.

“She’s gone. I broke up with her.”

Sarah’s head whipped forward so fast, she felt her neck crunch.

“You bro- Well, shit! Look who grew a backbone!” she raised her bottle in respect. “What did the dragon woman do this time?”

“Eh, ‘who’, actually…”

“Ah, shit. I’m sorry, Cos. Want one of my goons to go give her another new nose?”

Cosima laughed and let her eyes explore the office. White marble floors, white marble pillars, two chandeliers hung from the ceiling. A heavy wooden door faced Sarah and a smaller door faced Cosima. The only furnishings were the sofa she sat on and Sarah’s desk and chair. A raised eyebrow prompted Sarah to rub the back of her neck and let her feet fall to the floor.

“Paul.” she supplied. “He’s in another ‘minimalist but expensive’ phase. I let him do what he wants as long as he keeps out of my hair when I’m working”

A thought popped into Cosima’s head as Sarah spoke.

“Oh! I almost forgot! I saw Mrs. S, too,” she grinned. “She was asking for you.”

Sarah’s face lit up. Siobhán Manning was one of the few people Sarah loved. She was their nanny when they were little. Sarah took ‘Manning’ as a stage name of sorts when her businesses began to take off. Legally, she is still a Niehaus.

Mrs. S home schooled the girls and loved them like her own. She introduced Sarah to Wallace and Gromit, the show that Sarah’s English accent began to form from. She used to tell the girls stories of the years she lived in London, although she is still proud of her natural Irish accent. “You’d never find a prouder woman than an Irish mammy” she would say.

It was those stories that encouraged Sarah to leave San Francisco and live in London in her early twenties. There, she began what Cosima liked to call her pimping business. Sarah returned to America just three years ago and has since become one of Forbes’s Top 100 Entrepreneurs Under 30. And Sarah would never let her forget it. Cosima would never let her forget that she only has a year and a half left on that list.

Cosima began to put her shoes back on, bidding Sarah a good night.

“Hold up.” Sarah said. Cosima closed her eyes. “You don’t have to be anywhere right now. Your work asked you for reports early again, didn’t they? And you said yes, didn’t you? I know you work for a charity, Cos, but you can’t let them guilt you into extra work like this. No kids will starve if you don’t fill out your release papers a few days after you get home. For god’s sake, Cosima, learn to say no!”

“I can say no.” Cosima mumbled.

Sarah raised her eyebrows at her and jammed a finger in the intercom button on her desk, muttering while it rang.

“Yeah, you can say no. We all kn- Marcus. Now.” She sat impatiently with her arms crossed until there was a brisk knock at the heavy door. Cosima looked defeated already.

“C’mere!” Sarah bellowed at the door.

A blonde, chiseled man in black slacks and a tight black t-shirt stepped inside and approached Sarah’s desk cautiously.

Sarah snapped her sharp eyes up to him and Cosima was impressed when he only flinched a little bit.

“Ask my sister out.”

Without hesitation Marcus turned to Cosima and let his posture slouch, slipping into character.

“Miss Manning is hosting a ball this Thursday, would you do the honour of accompanying me?” he asked.

Cosima immediately blushed and looked at her sister with pleading eyes. Sarah dismissed the look and gestured back to Marcus with a wave of her hand.

“It’s social suicide to show up to a Manning Ball alone,” he continued “and I’ve always been too shy to approach you before, Miss Cosima. You’re just so beautiful.”

Cosima shuffled nervously.

“Marcus, you are very sweet, but-”

“Never mind. I’m so sorry for bothering you. Of course someone as spectacular as you would never even consider someone like me.” He looked at the floor dramatically and sighed sadly. Cosima’s reached out a hand, but brought it to her chest, her face looked horrified.

“Well, maybe for a while? We could-”

“Cosima, you absolute twonk. You’re gay! Tell him no!” Sarah yelled. Cosima matched her volume.

“But if it’s just for a while, I don’t want him to be lo-”

“Marcus, out! Cosima, sit!”

Marcus slid out silently. Cosima flopped back on to the sofa throwing an arm over her eyes and let out an almighty groan.

“They’re taking advantage of your need to put other people first, Cos. You’ve got to get out of that job.”

“But, I love it most of the time.” she whined.

“I know. Listen, we don’t need to talk about this now. Take one of my girls home tonight, you look like you need a good lay.” Cosima’s mouth turned down.

“Sarah, I’m not taking one of your ‘escorts’ into my home.” Her back shivered for good measure.

“’Ey, don’t talk about my hookers like that.” Cosima narrowed her eyes at her incredulously.

Sarah suddenly jumped up and ushered her to the door, a vice grip on her arm.

“Don’t over think it, I’ll have someone send one of the newbies with a wretched whore name. Take my Jag. I can’t have my sister taking a taxi- It’s embarrassing. Buh-bye, now.”

The weighty door slammed behind Cosima before she had a chance to protest. She felt the car keys Sarah had pressed into her hand and she looked up at the giant of a bodyguard that appeared beside her. His dark eyes burrowed into hers as he waited for her to take the lead to the underground. She considered asking him to carry her. Conversations with her sister required a lot of energy.

 

_____

 

Wood creaked under Cosima’s heels as she stomped upstairs to her flat. She muttered angrily to herself. She was tired and mad at her choice of bag that evening. Her arm was elbow deep in her oversized bag as she fished for her apartment key. She never kept it on the ring with the front door key because she is prone to losing things and would rather not lose both at once.

Rounding the top of the stairs to a dark corridor, Cosima spotted a shadowed figure leaning against the banister opposite her door. Cosima put on a cautious smile as she approached.

“Eh, hi. Can I help you?”

The figure glanced at her then slowly stepped forward under the halls dim light. She stood with her feet apart, one hand bent on her hip, the other straight at her side. She wore the most mouth watering seductive smile Cosima had ever seen. She gripped her found keys and gaped at the tall woman in front of her.

Her coat was open reveling a classy dress that hung just above her knees and showed off her collar bones and slim arms. Her blonde hair was poker straight and pulled back into a tight bun. Cosima noted the way it waved on top like it was trying to curl. The effect of the snow falling outside, no doubt. The woman batted her fake lashes purposefully at her.

Cosima let out a strangled gurgle.

She jammed her key into her door and held it wide enough for her guest to saunter in. She peeked down the hallway to make sure none of her neighbours saw and slammed the door shut. Her bag was clutched to her chest, protecting her from the lady taking in the apartment. The blonde ran a polished finger over the back of her Cosima’s chair and looked over her shoulder at her. Her tongue poked out from between her teeth as she smiled, eyes raking over Cosima’s body.

“I was told you were someone special,” she cooed. “but I couldn’t have dreamed you would be this cute.”

The blonde’s French accent melted Cosima’s insides and made mush of her brain. Her body tremored and she placed her bag down, her feet still anchored to the floor. She was under the taller woman’s spell.

“I’m Delphine” she continued. Cosima smiled nervously.

“Delphine? So, is that your whore name?” Cosima joked before she could stop. “No! Oh, god, no, that’s not what I wanted to say at all.”

Delphine looked less than unimpressed. A very fake smile stretched across her face.

“Well, ma caboche. I get paid either way.” she retorted simply.

Cosima ran a hand over her scalp.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t plan this. It was my stupid sister. You’re really, really beautiful, Miss Delphine, and I’m very sorry, but I think it would be best if you left.”

Delphine inspected Cosima’s face. She really was cute. And no one had called her something as respectful as ‘beautiful’ since she started working at The Pipeline. She tilted her head and strode into the smaller woman’s personal space. She cupped her terrified face and eyed her confidently. Her lips refuged on Cosima’s without permission. Cosima squeaked in surprise. Her hands hung lamely at her sides as the French woman ridded her of her heavy winter coat having already deposited her own in Cosima’s chair. Delphine pulled back an inch.

“How about we start over,” she gave Cosima’s bottom lip a nip. “Hmm?” An arm around Cosima’s waist flattened their bodies together. Cosima automatically stretched on to her tip toes and clutched at the blonde’s arms for balance.

Delphine backed up, pulling Cosima with her and blindly pushed at items she had mapped out as soon as she entered the apartment to clear a space on the desk. She twirled around and hoisted the smaller woman onto the desk, leaning into her kiss. Cosima would have been impressed with how smooth she was if she wasn’t so turned on.

The seductress straddled Cosima’s lap with her long, bare legs and pushed her to lie down.

“Bonjour,” she rumbled and licked the shell of Cosima’s ear. “My name is Delphine.”

“Cosima.” she replied in a puff. She was really enjoying the ministrations on her ear.

Delphine paused and slowly returned to a sitting position, her lips still puckered. A confused Cosima squinted at her, the ceiling light silhouetting her frame. Far too hot and bothered, Cosima sat up and began kissing her neck. Delphine gripped her face and tore her off. Her eyes stared past Cosima, and her eyebrows pointed down in concentration. Cosima attempted to kiss her again but Delphine restrained her.

“No, I can not.” Delphine stated distractedly.

“Nuh-uh, you’re doing great.” Cosima hushed, lust hazing her usually logical head. She attempting again to place her lips anywhere on the beauty.

“Stop!”

Cosima snapped out of it and looked up to the dilated kaleidoscopic eyes now piercing her own.

“Oh, god, Delphine. I don’t know what came over-”

“Your sister planned this?” Delphine rushed, squeezing Cosima’s cheeks for an answer. She nodded, Delphine’s eyes bugged out even more.

“You’re Cosima! Miss Manning’s _sister_ Cosima!?” Cosima looked just as frightened now and fixed her glasses as Delphine clambered off her lap. The reality that she had just been making out with an escort on her kitchen table/desk slapped Cosima across the face.

“I knew this was a bad idea!” Cosima said to herself.

“I snapped at you!”

“I made out with a whore!”

“ _Je ne suis pas une fichu pute_!”

“Oh god, no! You’re not, I’m sorry! I’ve just been listening to my sister for too long!”

“Your sister! I’m going to be fired! She’s going to _kill_ me!”

“She won’t kill you!”

“I’m dead! I’m worse than dead! You’re her SISTER!?”

Delphine was holding her own head by now and spewing out strings of French. Cosima’s mind was reeling. She felt her chest tighten and the walls around her started to bend.

“Delphine!” she gasped trying to make herself heard over the French woman. “Delphine, you have to stop. Del- Whoo- phine, please. I’m- I’m ha- I’m having-”

Cosima sank and scratched at the floor trying to get Delphine’s attention. The blonde looked over at her.

“Oh MERDE!” Delphine cried.

“Shhhut up! I’m having. A panic- Pan- Panic- Attack!”

“You’re having one NOW!? I’m not that sort of doctor!” she hissed.

Cosima’s head tilted.

“You’re a doctor?” she remarked.

Delphine ogled her in disbelief.

“I hardly think now the time to discuss this!”

“Ahhh! Stop yelling at me!”


	2. Chapter 2

Shoulders braced against the bitter wind, Cosima scampered across the road. She threw an arm behind her head and listened for a bleep as she locked her sister's car with the remote. Tucking her hands under her armpits, and keeping her head down low, she watched her red suede heels darken with spots of rain as she half ran for The Pipeline's front door. The top of her head collided with something quite solid.

She let out a yelp and the arm she had headbutted turned. Cosima met the irritated, beady eyes of a chunky man at least two heads taller than her. His furry eyebrows lifted and his beard split to allow for a delighted smile.

“Cosima!” he wailed. He threw his arms open splashing Cosima with rain the had been gathering on his security jacket.

He bent his knees and paused. “Oh. Can I give you a hug, Miss Cosima?”

“Sure, Teddy, thanks for asking,” she grinned.

Teddy let out a joyous bark and picked up the woman, swinging her back and forth.

“It is so lovely to have you home, Miss Cosima,” he placed her back on her feet. “Miss Manning has been driving us all so hard for the ball tomorrow, but everyone is so excited that you are back, we don't care!”

Cosima smoothed her coat and repositioned her glasses. “Teddy..” she chided.

He hung his head. “I know. Miss Manning is a good person. She has to be if she's your sister.” he jested earning a playful scowl. He pulled open the heavy side door he guarded and stepped aside.

“She's inside, tearing apart the first floor, last I heard.”

“See you later, big guy.”

Cosima followed the narrow corridor to the main floor and spotted her sister immediately. Shr was leaning into a frail and frightened man. Her arms flew in every direction while her muscular boyfriend stood behind her, arms crossed, eyes brooding, nodding his head along with whatever Sarah was spitting at the poor man.

Deciding to intervene before the man wet himself, she headed in their direction, taking in all the blank faced workers around her. They worked as efficiently and quietly as possible to avoid the boss' attention. Long, blue net curtains were being hung from the rafters, and dancers floated up and down the cat walk built into the middle of the room. One dancer spotted her and squealed, attracting the attention of a few more. She gave them a small wave, much to their delight. She picked out a particular blonde who was chatting to a dancer stretching on the ground. The French woman looked up at the commotion and found Cosima's eye. Cosima smiled shyly and Delphine gave a polite nod in return.

“Baby sis, what's going on.”

Sarah stepped forward and grinned. The man she had been yelling at crumbled and escaped while Paul greeted her with a firm handshake.

“Just wanted to pop over and see how things were going for tomorrow.”

“Let's grab a bite. My new favourite bakery is just around the corner. They do the best eclairs. Paul, would you-" Sarah looked over her shoulder. "Paul.”

Paul was in his own world with his arms crossed, flexing and inspecting his biceps. He looked down at his girlfriend and smiled giving her his entire attention. Sarah's face stoned over.

“Babe,” she began trying to hold back her temper. “Go make sure the third floor is cleared up, or something.”

Paul hurried off, happy to be in charge of something.

It's a good thing he's cute,” the older woman murmured. 

 

 

Teddy followed the girls silently as they walked. The bakery was almost invisible along the empty buildings that surrounded it. Cosima noted the swirling 'M' engraved on a plaque below the front window.

“When you said your favourite bakery, I didn't think you literally meant _your_ favourite bakery.”

Sarah peeked through the glass casing the deserts. “I bought this strip for renos and expanding. This place was already here, so I bought them out and let the family that owned it keep running it. They get to keep their shop and I get eclairs any time I want.” Sarah pointed out a few items to the silent old woman behind the counter. “Why, do you want it? You can have it if you want.”

“No! No, no! I don't want a bakery.” she rushed, following Sarah up the few steps to the seating area. She glanced apologetically at the little old lady who looked like she had had a mild heart attack by the words.

“What was with the poor soul you almost ate back there, Sarah?”

“Charity's manager. She's gone and broken her leg so I'm down a ribbon girl on the third floor. Selfish bitch.

“That routine was getting stale, anyway. Think it's time to start something new?”

“Then I'll need a whole new team. And routine. By next week. Or else I have to put Helena back up to lead those brainless duds.”

Cosima pushed back into her chair and sucked her teeth. “You can't really put Helena in a team. Remember last time? She got jealous of the other girls getting attention and-”

“I know, I know. I'm pretty sure Don Franko offered her a place as a hit-woman in his mafia after that show. Still the best lapdance I've ever had. Damn sexy, bat shit crazy Ukranian.. So, how was Delfun?” Sarah questioned.

Cosima let a breath steam from her nose and leaned back into the table.

“I can't believe you did that. It was so embarrassing.”

“I just thought since you had just come back from Africa, you needed a little African loving.” Sarah teased. Cosima thanked the waitress as she set down a tray.

“African? She's was French, you dork!”

Sarah spoke through a mouthful of cream. “Her records said African. Are we talking about the same person?”

Cosima flicked a stray crumb that flew from her sister's mouth and poked at a creme bun. “Tall, blonde, said she was a doctor?”

“Like hell. Records say she was a gymnast up until she came here.”

“Must have been a mix up in your offices.” Cosima mused, ripping pieces off her napkin.

“Or she's lying. Why would a doctor need to work for me? I don't like liars, Cosima.”

“I know. Just.. Don't fire her, ok?” she pleaded. “She was nice and I don't want her to get fired because of me.”

“Do you like her?”

 Cosima popped a piece of a caramel square in her mouth and chewed in thought.

“Nah, dude. I don't even know her. She's not really my type. I like small, dark haired girls. She was pretty, but you've got a hundred much hotter girls back at Pipes.”

_____

 

“... And the food was great.”

 Cosima tipped her champagne glass in farewell to the couple she had been talking to. She weaved between people to find a clear space at the banister. She never wanted to go to the party, but Sarah insisted and she had to agree that it was good to show her face. And how could she say no when a chic deep blue cocktail dress arrived by courier that morning courtesy of her big sister.

Men in suits, women in bowties, men in kilts, women in flowing dresses, everyone danced around each other and enjoyed the food and drink provided. The Annual Manning Ball was on par with the Golden Globes and Oscar after parties, and answering the same questions about her work from disinterested celebrities and important people that just want to keep in her sister's good books was tiring her out.

Cosima spotted a corner by the bar down stairs not swarming with bodies. She made her way down as discreetly as possible and threw a few “Sorry, I have to go, we'll catch up later”s to people trying to stop her. She grabbed the arm of a worker in the fishnet stocking and red dress uniform, and dragged them with her to the spot. She turned to offer the seat next to her and stepped back in surprise.

“Oh. Delphine,” she stammered, her face tightened in shock. Delphine tried to smile politely, but she looked tense.

“Sorry,” Cosima continued. “I'm just a bit anxious with the crowd, and people don't come over when you're with a worker.” Her mouth twitched as she wrung her fingers together waiting intently for a reply.

Delphine sighed grumpily then slid onto the stool. She rested her back against the bar with her elbows either side and watched the crowd.

“Well, it is my job. Actually, you saved me. The man you pulled me from was trying to haggle to bring me to his 'ouse as an anniversary present for him and his wife.” She tutted in offence.

Cosima used a bar mat to wipe spilled drink away from her.

“Thank you, though.” Cosima looked at Delphine who scowled ahead. She got the impression Delphine wasn't one to thank people. “I still have a job and I fell like that is because of you.”

Cosima brushed the words off. “How do you find working here?”

Delphine shrugged with her mouth and rolled her wrists to find her words.

“The ladies working here, they do not favour me, much. They only talk of the people they slept with the night before. They competition each other. And they are so much younger. I 'ave 31 years, I do not find pleasure in such jovial things.”

Cosima simpered at her English structure.

“And what do you do, Miss Cosima? Do you work?” she enquired, not bothering to hide her disinterest.

“I work for a charity focused on irradiating world hunger. I'm just back from Africa.” Cosima recited.

“Oh? Where did you go?”

Taken aback by the first person to show a genuine interest in her trip, Cosima's mind blanked.

Delphine's head flopped onto her shoulder to look at her in scrutiny. “You do not know? It's a pretty big continent.”

“No, yeah, sorry. I was in a town in Zimbabwe.”

“Mm," Delphine nodded looking back into the crowd. "Beautiful country. Beautiful people. So open and friendly. I am from South Africa, but I travel to Zimbabwe often to see friends.”

“That is not a South African accent,” Cosima maintained.

“No,” Delphine replied lightly. “I was born in South Africa and moved to Cameroon with my adoptive family when I was entering primary school. I learned English and French, but I lost my English when we moved to France twenty or so years ago.”

Cosima had unconsciously turned her body to face Delphine, hanging on her words.

“So, whoa, wait. How many languages do you speak?”

Delphine took Cosima's arm to look at her watch. She rose from her stool.

“French, English, Arabic, a little Xhosa and Japanese. Now I must go, I am dancing soon.”

Cosima was leaning forward, eyes wide with excitement.

“Wait, Delphine!” she called after her. Delphine slowed, but did not stop. “You're a dancer here, too? Japanese?”

Delphine teased with her eyes. “Another time. And I am not Delphine, now. I am Madam Rouxban.”

She turned on her heel and disappeared into the crowd. Cosima turned back to the bar and stared at her hands, processing the entire conversation she held with the woman.

 

_____

 

Cosima sat on the meeting room table, kicking her legs. Sarah shooed everyone bar her sister, boyfriend and body guard from the room overlooking the party below. Teddy spilled what he knew about Delphine after Cosima retold the conversation they had had minutes before.

“The women don't like her. They call her 'Carnie',” Teddy said.

“Carnie? I thought she was a dancer.” Sarah mused, sliding onto Paul's lap.

“No, you thought she was a gymnast.”

“You thought she was French.” Sarah snorted at her sister.

“I thought she was a dancer.” Teddy piped in.

“I think she's burlesque.”

“I thought she was a doctor!” Cosima fumed, ignoring Paul who was looking out the glass.

“I thought she was blonde.”

Sarah and Cosima jumped up to the window at Paul's words. They watched as a black wigged, leggy woman slowly stepped into each spot light down the runway clad in familiar fishnet stockings and black heels, and a sparkling red corset. Head straight, she looked down at the people lining the runway like they were beneath her, and demanded attention as she raised her hands above her head. She stopped in the last spot light and let her forearms fall over her head, the veil from her miniature top hat allowed a glimpse at her smokey eyes as she turned her head, inspecting the unworthy mass of people. By the end of the run way, she had caught the attention of the entire room. Roars and whistles thundered through the crowd, bodies pressed against the banister of the mezzanine, and the music hadn't even started.

 

“Sarah, I think I have a solution to your dancer situation.”


End file.
